Bet on it
by Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: Human! Horsemen AU? I saw this 'imagine your OTP' story on tumblr I could not help myself. This is officially a series of one shots. 1 You only wanted some sun-chips, and somehow you end up asking one of the notorious Four on a date.
1. Chapter 1 (Strife)

**I promised y'all some human! horsemen.**

 **This is unabashedly inspired by this gem: : sybariticfanfiction. tumblr post/133690889915/ clotpolesonly-scoreadirecthit (without the spaces of course, ffnet is such a pain)**

 **How many chapters will this have? ? I don't know! It's one AM though so you know I'm hella excited and already itching to write more. Maybe even with the other Horsemen! Or Uriel! ! I love Uriel.**

 **This one is for Strife though. Dearest trash boyfriend.**

* * *

"Seriously!?" You growl, giving the vending machine another kick. It probably hurts you more than the machine, but you feel a little better. Inside are two ( _two_ ) bags of sun-chips, just barely caught between the door and the last shelf. After the first was stuck you figured you could just knock it down with another bag, only for it to land _oh so gently_ on top of the first.

One of your friends, Juliet snorts in obvious amusement, patting your shoulder comfortingly. The rest of your study group have since left, now claiming a table across the lobby and already starting on the latest homework. "Come on, hon. Just give it up."

"I just!" Your hands ball into fists. "What kind of shitty luck is this? This is just ridiculous!"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on. We're here to study anyway." She responds breezily, pulling you away from the offending machine.

You follow her begrudgingly, muttering curses under your breath. Your friends wave as you settle down, although you do notice one handing your roommate and friend a crumpled dollar bill when they see you're chipless. "You bet on me?" You ask dryly, hardly surprised. Those two are always betting on something or another.

The loser shrugs his shoulders, "I figured you'd be stubborn enough to get 'em."

"And I saw that look the secretary had. Apparently that one is famous for stealing chips." Max chirps. You make a mental note to demand she pay for dinner tonight.

You just roll your eyes and yank the textbook out of your bag. You find that studying in groups, while distracting and occasionally nerve-wracking, does actually help you stay focused longer. Trying to study alone usually ends with you on your phone.

It isn't more than fifteen minutes however, that another class lets out and someone tries to grab a snack out of the same vending machine.

You hear them before you see them, one yelling excitedly about your chips. "Check this out! I don't even have to pay!" He says, much to the annoyance of his companions.

You glance up with narrowed eyes (although, in hindsight you will admit your anger was unjust), wondering who on earth would...

Oh.

Strife.

 _Of course_ , it's _Strife_. You really should've known by his voice.

He's one of those weird kids. One of _The Four_. They're all sort of infamous for starting fights, even amongst themselves (and for their attractiveness, but that's just a bonus). Apparently they're from some religious commune, although they broke off from the main group for whatever reason. You wonder if everyone in their family has weird-ass names. Death, Fury, Strife, and War.

Strife especially is known for being a fighter and mouthing off to teachers. Fury is calmer (ironically), but she's got this... _Don't fuck with me_ aura around her. You share classes with them both, because you're in the same year. You see War around campus occasionally (he's a first year), but you've never spoke.

And you're really not sure what to think of Death. You only saw him once, in your first year, and you're pretty sure he's the most hardcore person on earth. Here say claims he adores his youngest brother though.

"Hey, hey! How much you wanna bet he can get 'em out no problem?" Max whispers, as if he can hear her from across the lounge.

"Ten bucks says he brags about for a week too."

"You both suck." You pout irritably, watching as he tries his damnedest to get your chips out of the machine. When the secretary that had tried helping you approaches though, you turn you gaze away with embarrassment.

"She's pointing." Juliet hisses lowly. You appreciate her attempt at subtly, at the very least. "He's smirking."

"Hey!"

Of course, he has to yell across the fricken lobby.

You glance at Strife sheepishly, knowing you now have onlookers.

"I gotchu, girl!" He declares, grinning wickedly. His accent is even more apparent than usual, and you still have no idea what to call it.

"Do I want him to get me?" You ask quietly.

There's a varied response from your friends, some whole heartedly agreeing, yes, you want him to get you, and others bringing up his fighting habit and 'flirtatious' nature. You're not quite sure if that's accurate. It's probably just Strife being himself, rather than actively trying to get into everyone's pants.

Although you don't know what kind of screwed up rules they had to deal with back at the commune. Maybe celibacy was mandatory and he's making up for lost time. Who knows, really. You've only talked to him a few times, and those were usually because of a mandatory group project.

You watch on curiously as Strife gets to work on trying to get you your chips, although after the first few minutes and not-so-muttered curses, you turn back to your schoolwork.

"His friends want to take off." Juliet informs you, nudging your ribs.

"And?" You hum.

She makes a noise in her throat, apparently annoyed. "Come on, you got one of The Four trying to be your knight in shining armor."

You give her a sardonic smile, "I'm swooning already."

Juliet huffs and you once again try to focus on your schoolwork. It's easier said than done though, as people are now buzzing about Strife trying to rescue your chips. _It's really not that big a deal._

Strife, being who he is, makes it a big deal though. You know the instant he manages to swipe the chips, what feels like the entire lobby cheering loudly. "He got it!" Juliet squeals in your ear, gripping you shoulder excitedly.

"Yeah, I-" You say, only to be interrupted. Your hands fly up to catch the bag hurtling towards your chest, and while you're positive you made some kind of horrible expression out of shock and anger, Strife is still smiling when you look up at him. "What the-? Thanks?" You stutter.

"Sure." He doesn't even explain or sarcastically say 'you're welcome' like you would've, just turns on his heel and dashes out.

You do, however, get to here him yell to his waiting friends, "I DID IT."

 _Oh, gosh, that's cute_.

* * *

It takes you nearly a week to get up the nerve to approach him, and even then you don't plan on talking. You grab a bag of chips (from a different, more reliable machine) and scribble your phone number onto a sticky note which you then shove inside. Opening the bag is a little suspect, you know, but even sharpie won't show up on the plastic and stapling it would be weird.

You also don't want to risk him finding your little note when you're still in the area. Just to avoid awkwardness.

So opening the bag is your best option, really.

He's chatting with his sister when you arrive, a scowl in place as he animatedly goes on about what you assume is another argument. You haven't heard of any fights today though, so it must've been a verbal altercation.

It's Fury who notices your approach first, but rather than alerting her brother she simply smiles and pulls out her phone. You wonder if he told her about the chip thing. _Probably._

"Hey." You greet.

Strife falls silent, blinking once in surprise before looking over at you. "Hey. Were those chips worth it?" His lips curl into a grin. It's actually quite the challenge to be nervous around him, you realize quickly. While Fury has the prickly exterior, Strife seems... _Softer_.

Or maybe you've just developed a horrible crush on him over the past week. That could also be a factor, especially considering he can pick a fight with anything that moves.

"Uh." You look anywhere but Strife, shifting your weight. "Actually that's what I wanted to talk about. I sorta owe you so..." You shove the chip bag at him, still not looking him in the eye.

He snorts, "It's missing a few."

"Delivery fee." You shrug.

You almost make to leave it at that, but Strife's voice stops you. "You're in a few of my classes, aren't you? What'd we have last semester? _Advanced chemistry_?" He raises his eyebrows.

It takes you a second, and your eyes go wide. " _God dammit_." You hand flies up to your mouth, as if to stop the traitorous laughter. Strife is grinning proudly when you look at him.

How could he have known you have a weakness for shitty pick up lines? _How?_ You react the only way you know how, with a biting comeback, "If only we had geography, maybe then you'd be able to find yourself a decent pick up line."

Strife freezes, obviously taken off guard.

" _Oh_." Fury says, the sound of her typing halting.

You don't dare break the staring contest with Strife, waiting for his reply.

He leans closer, his eyes narrowing and the bag of chips crumpling in his hand. You do notice that he's still smiling, however. "You trying to start something, short stuff?"

"Hell yeah." You grin.

He raises an eyebrow. "You think _you_ can take me?"

Something about this whole situation, about Strife, makes you fearless. You could get used to this. "Out, sure. My Thursday's are free, and there's this really yummy Mexican place," You shrug.

He barks a laugh. "What about Friday's?"

You shake your head, "Mm-m. Friday's are me days."

" _We_ will see about that." He replies sharply, as if he's challenging you or something. You can't help but think you might not mind too much if it's Strife interrupting your relaxation time.

"It's a date!" You nod determinedly, giving him one last smile before turning on your heel. You probably don't look half as cool as he did last week, but you're nonetheless proud of yourself.

"You gonna give me your number or...?" Strife calls after you, laughing.

You roll your eyes. "You figure it out, I'm sure."

Max is looking a little too smug when you get back to your dorm, and when she passes you a ten dollar bill you realize news has already spread. And that she bet on you _again_.

"I'm so proud of you," She says, wiping crocodile tears from her cheeks. "This is more romantic than The Notebook."

"He hasn't even texted me back yet, _oh my god_." You crash onto the couch with a sigh, unable to keep the smile off your face despite your best efforts. Max's laughter makes it clear you're not fooling anyone.

It takes about an hour (throughout which you most certainly _do not_ check every three seconds) for your phone to light up after that, three messages in quick succession.

Surprisingly, only one of them is from Strife, who just sends, 'who would've thought u planned this.'

 _Literally my entire friend group_. You find it interesting that he uses apostrophes and shorthand though. Like he can't decide if he wants to be proper or not.

You click on the other two messages, both from an unfamiliar numbers. 'I've never seen anyone sass Strife and get away unscathed, you know. I'm impressed.' _Fury then_ , you realize.

The final one is very short, and you have no idea what to make of it. 'Good luck.'


	2. Chapter 2 (Death)

**Yo.**

 **I don't even know if this counts as shipping but I liked writing it so yeah. This is _hesitantly_ the Death /Reader in the same -ish universe. Just a 'different' protag. **

**Because that makes sense, Syb.**

 **Whatev's.**

 **I hope you all like it too, and welcome to the New Year! ! May it be ten times as amazing as last year.**

 **Warning for medical talk I guess? ? don't take my word for anything tho I'm hardly a doctor. Everything here is just knowledge from past visits tbh. Chronic pain actually makes you pretty hospital savvy.**

* * *

"Lemme guess, 'you should see the other guy'?" You ask dryly, upon finding a familiar face in your emergency room. Surprisingly, neither of his siblings are with him this time.

War gives you a world class smirk and simply shrugs. "My X-rays?" He asks curiously.

"We've got a while yet." You respond flippantly, checking his vitals before looking his hand over. It's swollen around the third and forth finger, meaning he got sloppy with a punch. Damn kids nowadays. "I'd say its just a fracture though."

"Hm." He sort of replies, his face remaining stoic even when you press the injury.

"One to ten?" You sigh.

He appears to honestly consider it. "...Four or five."

You nod. "Well, that's good. You still want a pain killer or...?"

"It'd be nice." He says, eyes flickering towards the tv. "You upgraded since I was last here."

You blink, leaning forward on your toes to relieve the stress. Now you're just socializing, really, so there's no need to maintain your no nonsense work stance. "Was it really that long ago? We got new equipment almost three months ago now."

"Apparently." He answers vaguely.

You take that as a goodbye, but stop in the doorway. "I forgot to ask, do you have a ride back? I can't drug you up and expect you to drive home. Fury or Strife available?"

He seems torn for a second, lips pulling into a grimace. "They have an extra credit thing. I suppose I can call Death."

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, "Should I be alarmed or is that another sibling?"

He cracks a smile. "My eldest brother."

"Hm." You nod, and without another word, head over to the next on your list, a child with an allergy to peanuts. They came in before your shift started, but the kid is now sleeping sounding while their mother watches 'Say Yes to the Dress' intently.

You ask her if she'd like some crackers and pop or to visit the cafeteria (it wouldn't do any good to have her checked in for low blood sugar after all) and she doesn't agree until you promise to stay with the kid while she's gone.

By the time she returns you know your other patients (except War) will be irritable, but her relieved smile is enough to win you over. "You'll be home in no time." You assure her.

There's another (just a run of the mill asthma attack, easy to treat if not a little nerve wracking for the family) before you reach War's opponent, and _wow._

You weren't kidding when you said the other guy is even worse. His nose is undoubtably broken, and his jaw by the look of it. You don't need to ask to know he needs pain meds, but you do anyway.

"What's your pain level, from one to ten?" You ask gently, tilting his face so you can see his nose better. It's not so bad that you'll have to call in a specialist, but you will have to set it after he's numb.

"Nine or something, I don't fuckin know. Shouldn't you know?" He sneers, and you make a mental note to thank War for kicking his ass.

You continue the rest of the examination as icily as possible, bordering on robotic with your sterility. You won't risk getting a bad rep because some kid is annoyed he didn't win a fight he probably started. War isn't really the type to start fights after all. Strife, on the other hand...

You also make him take his medication with plain (and pretty gross tasting, honestly) water, while you grab War his preferred pop out of the patients' mini fridge. Caffeine free, of course.

You're almost ready to head back to War when a nurse alerts you to his X-rays being back. Sure enough, they're just cracks, and only in the pinky. It _is_ very close to breaking territory though, so he'll have to be careful in the future.

"Am I allowed to thank you for breaking his nose?" You say as you enter the room, not noticing the new arrival until he speaks.

"As a lawyer, I wouldn't advise it." The newcomer chuckles.

You nearly drop the medication, eyes going wide. Next to War in one of the stiff plastic chairs, is a dark haired man, and although you don't see much of a resemblance between him and War, something in the way he holds himself is very familiar.

He's also extremely attractive, which is... _Not appropriate for a doctor to be thinking, dammit_. "You must be Death."

"Yes. And you are...?" He raises an eyebrow.

"War's drug dealer." You answer cheerfully, handing the fighter in question a paper cup and the pop. "Don't tell the other one I let you have pop."

"You gave him that horrid water." War smiles, and your heart just about melts.

Death seems surprised by this when you turn to him again, eyes locked on War.

"Seriously though, I'm usually the physician to treat War. And occasionally Strife, but he doesn't seem to like hospitals." You give him your name too, and hold your hand out.

His hand dwarfs yours when he shakes it, nodding. "It is a pleasure."

"Well..." You give Death one last look before returning to your patient. "I'm gonna hafta splint that pinky of yours, kid. Sloppy hit." You tut, moving over to the supply cabinet. Thankfully this doesn't need anything especially pricey, because then you'd have to go through the effort of typing the code into the locked cabinet and all that nonsense.

He snorts, and Death laughs. "What'd his challenger look like?"

"Broken nose and jaw, probably. He was in a horrible mood too, which I don't appreciate." You hmph, grabbing the doctor's spinny chair (its a stool, actually. Don't let the word 'chair' deceive you) and settling next to War. "Hand."

"What'd he say?" War's voice drops, now practically a growl.

You wait until he gives you his hand before answering, "Nothing important. And nothing I'd repeat, honestly. I don't use anything worse than 'damn.'"

War hisses as you begin repositioning his finger, but you're almost sure that's because of anger rather than pain. He has a startlingly high tolerance. "War." You say gently, flashing him a smile. "Seriously, it's fine. He's a patient now."

"Because _that_ makes it okay." Death interrupts, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It does. I'm obligated to at least treat him civilly." You huff. "Although I will admit I am totally biased when it comes to your younger siblings. They visit much more than I'd like."

War has the decency to look sheepish, although such an expression looks odd on him. You finish tapping his hand up with a smile. "I'll have your discharge papers soon then, plus a scrip' for home, and somebody will come in to make sure your insurance is in order shortly. You can stay a while longer if you want to, or if the pains bad enough and you want some stronger medicine, but other than that..."

"I know." He nods, scowling down at his hand.

"And it was nice meeting you, Death." You wave lightly. "Although hopefully we don't see each other again. _War_."

"I can assure you, I will be back." He answers immediately, not even taking time to think it over.

"Great." You sigh.

It isn't until near the end of your shift that one of the nurses pulls you aside and says, "This is gonna sound weird but..." He begins, gauging your reaction. Seeing none, he continues, "I think War's brother is digging on you."

It takes you a moment to understand, and all you can manage to respond is, "What?" You don't remember Josh being one of _those_ coworkers.

"He was telling War he'd like to be the one he calls from now on when I started the insurance fill out and then he says," Josh's voice drop into a poor impression of Death, "' _That doctor seemed... interesting_.'"

"Interesting." You repeat blandly. "So you think he wants to take me out because he said I'm interesting?

He rolls his eyes, "You make it sound so boring. It was the way he said it! And War, he looked awfully surprised too."

"Well, damn, kid, I'm sold." Maybe your sarcasm is uncalled for, but he's being ridiculous.

* * *

 _Okay, maybe Josh's assumption wasn't... Totally ridiculous_. You're forced to admit over the next few months, throughout which War ends up in your ER multiple times. Two of which aren't even fight related, surprisingly enough. Visit after visit, your conversations with his eldest brother become less about War and more... Borderline flirtatious. Which is _really weird_ because its apparent neither of you know how to flirt.

You always hope that War stays away though, because let's face it: the ER is not really the place you want your friends to end up. Although you will admit you only get to see them here. Strife texts you sometimes (and you're sure the others likewise have your number), but you've never actually hung out with them.

Today, War is in for head pains, which _is_ rather worrying. Strife isn't sprawled across the chairs like he usually would be when you enter, instead anxiously tapping his knee and glancing up at every sound. War just looks annoyed, but the way he's clutching the railing on the bed tells you he's in pain.

"Hey." Strife says as soon as you enter, "So, Ruin threw him yesterday and we didn't really think anything and he tried to sleep it off and-"

"It's gotten worse." War interrupts, eying Strife irritably. His brother appears too anxious to be offended. "Like an eight."

"So, fatigue, pain... nausea?" You ask, grabbing your flashlight.

He makes a face. "Yes."

You do the usual head trauma run through, throughout which is becomes very apparent he's hit himself pretty good. "It's probably a concussion," You tell him, and Strife sharply inhales. "It's not that big a deal, as long as there's no repeats. Right now, I want request a CT and set up an IV?" You leave the IV up to War, who simply nods. "Great. I'll be right back."

You nearly run into Fury on your way out, who looks just as distraught as Strife did. "He's going to be fine." You tell her immediately, smiling.

"I- just called Death, he'll be here after court adjourns." She says, her words spaced awkwardly and so un-Fury-like it makes your chest squeeze. You've long since passed the line of normal doctor-patient concern, honestly.

"Great. Just keep an eye on War while I'm gone and call a nurse if anything gets worse." You tell her.

She stares at you for a moment, before slowly nodding, "Of course." Having a job seems to do the trick to get cool and collected Fury back, her shoulders straightening dutifully as she brushes past you to watch her little brother.

You're thankful it's been a very slow day as you scurry to set up a CT and grab an IV set up. Normally you'd just ask a nurse to do it, but there's only one other patient at the moment, and she's just waiting for the meds to kick in, so you take it upon yourself.

Strife is still tap-tap-tapping and Fury is pacing when you get back, and War looks even more annoyed with his family.

He does crack a smile when you ask Fury to _sit down_ though, and offers his arm without protest. You find the vein very easily, and he only flinches a tiny bit when you stick him. There's very little blood, thankfully (Strife might just renounce your friendship if you messed up sticking a needle into a major vein).

"No curls while the IV is in." You joke as you carefully add the anti nausea medicine in with the saline.

He snorts. "Yes. That's what I'm here for, the gym."

"I knew it." You respond cheerfully. "I can't give you any blood thinners right now, because I don't know if there's bleeding, but techs'll be here pretty quick and if it's all good I'll give you some pain relievers."

He just sighs, while Fury asks, "Wouldn't the IV interfere with a CT?"

"It's all plastic, so no. Thank goodness you're already in one of our snazzy gowns." You flash War a smile and he scowls.

"I figured you would ask anyway." He huffs.

You give him a thumbs up and head for the door, "I'll be back to check up in a few. You guys can watch TV or something if you'd like, but not for too long. The wifi code is on the fridge if you forgot."

Strife yells back that of course they didn't forget, it's _wifi_ and you roll your eyes. _Strife, you're in a fricken hospital, stop yelling._

The only other patient is browsing Pinterest when you return (which you know because she made a point of showing you a very cute picture of cupcakes made to look like frogs) and informs you her roommate will be arriving shortly to take her home.

You stop in the break room to ask one of the nurses to get the discharge papers for her, and purposely keep your gaze away from the mason jars on the counter, one with decorated with a crude rendition of a scythe and the other with X's covering it. For ending up with Death and against, respectively. Apparently one of your coworkers thinks the grim reaper is a fitting comparison to someone named Death, hence the scythe.

You've made it abundantly clear a betting pool on your love life is completely out of line, but none of them heed your threats.

You end up glancing at them anyway, only mildly surprised to see the pro-dating container is winning by a sliver. Although you have no way of knowing if all of those are ones.

You roll your eyes and continue on your way. Time to do all the paper work (well, technically computer work) for War. It's pretty simple, but you do end up loitering for a while, until the notice comes through that the there's no bleeding and that you can go ahead and give him some pain relievers.

Strife and Fury are gone when you return, but Death has taken over monitoring War and trying to find a good channel (good luck).

You raise an eyebrow, "And here I was looking forward to seeing all four of you together."

War's lip twitches, and Death just snorts. "They couldn't agree on a restaurant so they both left to get dinner." _Well_... You have to admit that does sound like the two of them. They don't agree on much of anything.

"Hm," You say lightly, fluttering over to War's IV line. "I've got your pain relievers, kid. You'll feel it in a few minutes."

War clenches his fist as the medicine enters his bloodstream and you swat him. "Stop that."

"It's prickly." He responds.

You purse your lips. "Prickly, huh. Never heard that one before." He raises an eyebrow and you explain, "Lots of patients say it feels weird or that they can taste it on the back of their throat. Speaking of which, do you need another blanket? I know the drip isn't real pleasant."

Saline is generally kept at room temperature, which in a hospital especially, is rather chilly compared to a regular old human.

War glances over at Death as if he's embarrassed before saying, "Yes."

You smile comfortingly, "Great."

"Do you get anything good on this?" Death asks, obviously referring to the TV. "Aside from housewife dramas, I mean."

Your lips quirk. "Your best bet is hooking up your phone and watching Netflix, honestly. There's cords in one of the drawers if you're old school." You shrug, yanking a pile of blankets out of the cabinet. You set the extras on the counter and theatrically throw the other over War. He immediately whaps your hands away when you try to tuck him in, but he's laughing and that was your plan.

Death is watching the two of you when you glance up, smirking in amusement.

"Well, then," You start, yanking your stool over to the edge of the bed. "I have to ask if you guys plan on staying the night or if I have to debrief your siblings on proper concussion treatment. If you stay you'll get treatment right away if anything goes wrong, but I know hospitals ain't the comfiest and some patients do better when they're home."

The two of them exchange loaded glances, both of them obviously weighing the pros and cons. You glance away out of respect for their privacy, looking at the saline drip curiously. You'll have to get a new one soon, just to make sure he remains hydrated.

Which is also something you would normally leave up to a nurse, but... It's War. He's like a little brother to you at this point. Despite the fact he can probably bench press you. And it's sort of fitting, considering the horrible crush you have on his brother.

Dammit.

"We will give you answer once the others arrive." Death finally says, rising an eyebrow when you flinch.

"Sorry." You shrug, looking at the kid in question. "How's the medication treating you?"

"Better." He responds shortly, giving you the barest hint of a smile. You pout irriatably and he elaborates, "A two, maybe."

Now smiling, you make to stand, "That is much better. I'll check back in a few then, okay?"

"Have you eaten dinner?" Death interrupts.

You blink. "W- no? I've only got a little while left on this shift anyway." _What kind of question is that?_

He doesn't respond, simply scrutinizing you. Blushing in embarrassment, you make a hasty retreat. Checking in with the registration (still no new patients, unfortunately), you busy yourself chatting with your coworkers.

One of whom just recently became a mom. You're pretty sure she's got nearly three hundred pictures, all slightly different but similar enough to make feigning interest harder and harder as time passes. He just looks like a baby. There's really not much... Definition is newborns. They all look angry potatoes.

This is why you're not a midwife.

You're granted a brief reprieve when Fury returns, and her smug grin upon learning she beat Strife. "I got breakfast for dinner."

"That's not healthy!" You respond immediately, shaking your head in mock disapproval.

Fury only laughs it off, pausing to inform you she got more than enough for the four of them before disappearing around the corner.

You're left frowning in confusion, and a quick glance to your nurses confirms they're also a little flummoxed. "Did she just invite me to eat with them?" You ask slowly.

"I believe so." One of them smiles brightly, moving to give your a high five that you barely have time to lift your hand for.

"What time is it? When do you get off anyway?" Another cheers.

"Eight, and it's seven forty three."

"You could totally join them, doc."

"Ohhhh, is it too late to change my bet?"

They continue the conversation without any work on your part, leaving you to mentally go through the pros and cons of denying Fury's request or joining in their family time.

Thankfully they both fall quiet when Strife returns, and while he looks mildly annoyed that Fury arrived first, he happily informs you that the classic burgers and fries is _obviously_ the better choice.

You smile despite yourself, neither confirming nor denying it.

As your coworkers start talking again you glance at the clock and cheer, _Only ten more minutes!_

It seems those minutes drag on and on, and you're all too happy to punch out and head for the break room when your replacement arrives. You yank on your casual clothes without delay (multiple sets of scrubs are completely necessary in the ER and everyone has their own locker), only to hesitate in front of War's room.

You could just walk away. You could totally just leave, and make yourself some food in the privacy of your own home and relax.

But you don't really want to.

Steeling your nerves, you knock before opening the door. "Hey." You greet, waving halfheartedly as all four of them glance up at you. "So... I heard we got waffles."

There's a beat of silence before Fury laughs and says, "I told you."

"Daaamn." Strife whistles, elaborating when you raise an eyebrow, "I don't think I've ever seen you without your doctor clothes."

"Oh." You can only laugh as you grab your spinny chair and sit down next to Death and Strife. They're using the foot of War's bed as a table, and he's got his legs crossed to accommodate, while Fury perches on the very edge of the bed next to him and his brothers claim the two chairs.

Strife passes you a paper napkin full of French fries as soon as your settle down, and you grin. "Thanks."

"No prob." He shrugs.

"Are you not working then?" Death asks. There's... _Something_ behind that question that makes your heart jump, but you brush it off after a moment. Now, with his entire family surrounding you, is not the time to be entertaining romantic thoughts.

"Yup. Nice timing, kid." You send War a smile, and he rolls his eyes. "That's why I'm all dressed! Like, you would not believe how cold scrubs are compared to regular clothes. They're just really thin, I guess." You continue, munching on your fries.

"We don't have to worry about that, thankfully." Fury hums.

"Well, yeah. You and Strife are juniors, right?" You respond.

"Yes." She confirms, moving to grab another pancake. Despite her poise and properness, you notice she eats with her hands, pulling the pancake into bite sized pieces and dipping them in syrup.

It's cute, honestly.

"I'm a first year. Same college." War adds.

You smile at him before turning to Death, "And you're a lawyer, right?"

"Indeed. I was in court when Fury called, actually." He says, motioning to his suit. "At least one of us had time to change."

Nudging him with your elbow, you say, "I'm sure we have extra hospital gowns."

You try to keep a straight face, but Death's positively scandalized expression has you in a fit of giggles. The others aren't in much better shape either, and eventually Death cracks a smile.

Yeah. You could totally get used to this.

The rest of your dinner is likewise filled with snark and laughter, only interrupted by a nurse coming to check on War and fill out the discharge papers (apparently they decided home is the best option).

You pretend you don't notice the radiant smile she's sending you as she types everything up, but when Death raises an eyebrow you know you've done a horrible job. "What?" He asks quietly.

"Hell if I know." You lie right through you teeth, looking anywhere but your crush.

Death makes a disbelieving noise, but thankfully doesn't press and you help Fury grab all the napkins and plasticware while War gets his IV taken out. Strife is too busy silently intimidating the nurse to help out, it seems. You've never seen that particular coworker so careful though, and don't even try to cover your surprise.

Huh.

War shoos everyone out so he can change, and you take it upon yourself to throw the fast food bags away in the break room trash. Fury follows you anyway, of course, and you catch her eyeing the mason jars curiously.

"Betting pool." You explain.

"What _kind_?" She responds, obviously referring to the scythe decorating one.

It occurs to you maybe an omen of death ain't the best thing to have in a hospital.

Oops.

You hesitate, "...Romantic endeavors of a certain coworker? I don't participate."

She falls silent, apparently satisfied with that and the two of you rejoin her family.

Yon don't think much of following them out to the parking lot, right up until Death clamps a hand on your shoulder. "Where are you going?" He asks amusedly.

"My... car?" You say, glancing over your shoulder at him in confusion. The others don't seem to think much of this exchange, continuing to bicker about who gets to drive. Fury and Strife came in the same car, it seems. One of them had to borrow Death's to get their dinner.

Death's smirk widens. "Aren't you coming? We need a doctor, after all. War is in no shape to be left alone."

You're not really sure if he's being sincere at this point, but you have to admit he's got a fair point. You _are_ the best equipped to help, if something goes wrong.

You also have to admit you're rationalizing Death asking you to come home with him.

"Are you gonna drive me back here tomorrow then?" You finally ask, unable to keep from smiling.

"Of course. Wouldn't want you late to work." He says, releasing your shoulder.

"Because I'm such a professional." You answer, your own sarcasm biting.

War seems hardly surprised when you slide into the passenger seat, only giving you a small smile when you twist around to look at him while Death starts the car. "Still pain free?" You ask.

He snorts. "Are you here for my brother or me?"

"All of the above. But not in the same sense." You answer immediately, making the both of them laugh.

The drive is surprisingly short (in your opinion, anyway. The hospital is on the outer edge of town), and the house that greets you is... Nice. Homey, even, despite the stark contrast between your lofty downtown apartment and the long, sprawling gravel drive that leads to a sizable house surrounded by pasture.

"Woah." You say, leaning close to the window.

"What?" War grumbles.

"I'm not used to so much room." You answer truthfully. "But you've got horses, right? Makes sense." You glance back at one of the fields while Death parks, but there's no one out at the moment. That you can see, at least.

"Where do you live?" He asks curiously.

"Downtown. Most of the older shops have upper floors that have been converted into apartments. I'm right above a jewelry and imports place. It perpetually smells like incense and honestly, I think my neighbor uses it to get away with smoking pot." You respond as you get out and stretch.

"And who says they aren't evolving?" Death hmphs. You figure he's got a lot of experience with druggies, being a lawyer and all.

"So what's..." You stop, watching a _huge_ crow swoop down on Death. He, for one, doesn't seem surprised as the creature claims his shoulder, only glancing at it with mild surprise.

"Hello, Dust." He greets.

"You have a bird." You state, already moving closer.

"Arguably." Death watches you closely as you hold your hand out for the bird, but doesn't try to stop you.

It only nudges your fingers when you get close, making a weird hissing noise that confirms its crow-ness. It doesn't quiet down until you begin petting it, and you laugh. "What a cutie."

"He's a freeloader." Death scoffs, although his smile says otherwise.

"You're going to freeze if you stay out here." Fury interrupts, tapping your shoulder as she passes. You didn't even notice their arrival.

"Am I going to freeze _to death_?" You respond, following her inside.

Fury tries to smother her laughter with her hand, while Strife turns right around and says, "Get out of my house."

"I don't think I will." You snicker. Strife only likes puns when he makes them. Any time else and they're the bane of his existence.

An arm snakes around your waist as you try to figure out where to leave your shoes, and Death says, "I see why you're such great friends."

You can only smile.


	3. Chapter 3 (War)

**A few days ago I got this, like, crushing homesickness for tuliptime and so. Here we are.**

 **I have so much fun writing these tbh I don't see myself stopping anytime soon. I've already got the next like... Three parts planned out. Two of which were requested (ily) and the one for Fury that's more or less finished. It's pretty short tho so I might go back and more before posting.**

 **Hope you have a good day! ! !**

 **Also... I don't know if they serve them in other countries, but elephant ears are like fried pastries that are usually covered in cinnamon sugar/ chocolate sauce / powdered sugar. They're fuckin huge too but they _are_ better than other things offered at state fairs and parades. **

**Fried Oreos are fucking amazing tho, don't let anybody tell you otherwise. You just can't have more than two without feeling your sins crawling up your back so.**

 **God bless America.**

* * *

You have a lot of regulars, working so close to a college and in the downtown area, but you look forward to seeing only of handful of those. Most come in every day and order the same thing in a zombielike trance, and hardly give you the time of day. Others just grate on your nerves.

There is the Americano boy though.

He comes in every single day at eleven fifteen (ish), usually with his hair pulled back and a downright tired look on his face. Sometimes he'll have fresh bruises, or his hands wrapped up, and on those days he tends to look even worse for wear.

But he's... Sweet, in his own way. He tips nicely despite only ever ordering a mini tiramisu and americano (both of which have a pretty high amount of caffeine) and you've seen the way he treats kids. Which, is with a begrudging acceptance as they marvel over his strangely pale hair.

You're not quite sure what to make of him, honestly.

You're almost certain he's a college student too, and if you're to be completely honest, makes you absolutely green with envy. Which is ridiculous, really. It's not his fault you're broke and unable to further your education.

But that's beside the point.

The point is that as soon as the words, "So have you got any new crushes?" left your friend's mouth, all you could think about was the americano boy and his bright blue eyes.

And you have no idea what to make of this development.

You... You don't. _Like him, right?_

No. That'd be weird. You're not supposed to crush on your regulars, especially ones you don't even know the name of.

You _know_ that, but when he shows up at exactly eleven seventeen, you swear your heart does a flip and all you can think is oh no.

He doesn't seem to notice anything different though, simply ordering the same he does everyday and collapsing onto the nearest bench tiredly.

"Long morning?" You ask curiously, already getting to work cutting him out a square of tiramisu. You fleetingly wonder if mentioning that you're typically the one to make the pastries would affect your chances with him.

Not that you have _any_ chance with a _customer,_ you correct yourself. _What do you think this is? Some cliche coffeehouse AU?_

God, you fuckin hope so.

"I've got a concussion." He answers after a second, sighing tiredly. "You'd think that would mean something to my professors."

You lift your eyebrows in confusion, and he continues, "Artificial light makes my head hurt. ...Worse."

"Makes sense." You make a humming noise, sliding the dessert over the counter and asking, "How'd you end up with a concussion?" Not another fight, right? A concussion seems pretty unlikely unless he totally got dunked on. Which seems... Impossible, honestly.

He hesitates, apparently thinking it over before pulling his phone out. "Ruin threw me."

Leaning over the counter, he shows you a picture of the creature in question, who turns out to be a positively gorgeous horse.

"Oh," You gasp. "He's so pretty." You want to say more, to ask how old he is and what kind, but honestly... You're not the most knowledgeable horse person.

Americano boy just laughs, "Yeah."

"So... Is like your horse or what?" You ask slowly, smiling excitedly.

"He's mine. We all have our own and a few more." He seems happy to talk about his horse, despite the fact this conversation started with his concussion. You're pretty stoked too, but that's mostly because you just really like animals. If given the option, you would've loved to become a veterinarian.

"Rad." Is all you can respond, laughing.

He tilts his head, obviously debating his next words. "He's going to be in the spring parade. If you'd like to see him."

"Really!?" Your voice comes out embarrassingly high with your excitement, but War just seems to think its amusing.

He shrugs, "It's good publicity for Death and my siblings all enjoy the limelight."

"Death the lawyer brother." You reiterate, returning to the task at hand. Making coffee doesn't require much effort at this point.

"Yes." He says, tinged with confusion.

"Just confirming." You reply lightly. You struggle to remember everything Americano's told you about his family. While its true he's a... Top priority customer, if you will, he's still just one of the many customers you face during the average shift (who knew college kids drank so much coffee?). He's not even that talkative. "What are the other two named?" You finally ask, sliding his coffee over the counter.

His lips tilt up in a half smile (and it becomes painfully obvious that yes, you do have a crush on him), "Fury and Strife. Fury being my only sister."

Your eyes narrow, a particularly memorable tale from one of your other regulars coming to mind. "The same Strife from the cornchip thing?" You think they were cornchips, at least. Apparently he got a datemate by breaking a vending machine or something.

You honestly aren't surprised Americano's got a weird-ass family.

He snorts, lips pressing into a thin line to stop himself from smiling. "The very same Strife."

He doesn't ask, but you feel the need to explain, "You wouldn't believe how many people come here to gossip."

"I would, actually." He says, "Given how quickly that-" A couple walks in, Americano glancing at them briefly before finishing, "Story spread."

You don't want to cut this conversation, but it is you job. You give the newcomers a bright smile, and by the time you've taken their orders and grabbed them both a slice of banana bread, Americano is gone.

You find yourself pouting as you wipe the counter down, mulling over his spring parade offer. You were considering going anyway, and although standing in the hot sun for hours isn't really your style, maybe Americano boy being there would make up for it.

Or make it even worse, what with the blush you're now sporting.

 _And he's not even_ here. _Just shameful_.

* * *

 _Fuck_ , is it even hotter than you expected. Your water bottle is already half empty, the packed crowds doing you no favors. _At least I still look cute_ , a quick glance at one of the store front windows reminds you.

Not that you're trying to impress anyone, _obviously_. And if you were, it would definitely not be some guy that clearly has a caffeine addiction.

You're just here for the festivities.

You missed the first parade (they have a two a day on Thursday and Friday) unfortunately, but you know it can't be helped. Goodness knows the coffee shop is already short staffed enough without you flaking on them to flirt with some boy you still don't know the name of.

You almost invited a friend to join you, but that would require explaining why you want to go so bad in the first place and that sounds... Unpleasant. You have run into several friends anyway, and they've all seemed happy to see you.

Plus you grabbed a some grade A elephant ear, so you're happy to have dragged yourself out of your blissfully air conditioned apartment. There's honestly no way to go wrong with horribly unhealthy fair food, in your opinion (you just barely resisted the temptation of trying "deep fried Oreos", which sound like a heart attack in a cookie, but also pretty yummy).

God bless fair food.

 _And the fair in general_ , you suppose, scanning the crowds as you pull apart your pastry. Exhausted parents, their obnoxiously energetic children, and tourists dominate the scene, mixed up with teenagers and disgruntled parade workers.

One of which just so happens to have his ridiculously pale hair pulled into a messy ponytail and an award worthy scowl on his face as who you assume is one of his brothers chit-chats with a parade official. He's certainly got the hair to be one of War's siblings.

 _Death, then?_ You wonder, weaving your way over to him. The other siblings are no where to be found, and you're almost certain you can get away with stealing him without having to meet the family.

"Hey, Americano." You greet with a smile.

His scowl drops almost immediately, replaced by complete and utter shock when he glances down at you. "Hello." He finally says, eyes flickering over to his brother.

"Isn't it your break time?" You ask, moving to unclip the water bottle at your waist and offer it to him. "You look horrible, and I've seen you after exams."

His lips quirk as he accepts the drink. "I appreciate your concern." He says dryly, _oh so casually_ looking you up and down. You narrow your eyes and he snorts, "I've never seen you out of uniform."

You place a hand on your hip, "That is like the _weakest_ excuse for checking someone out I've ever heard."

He just smirks, and _damn_ do you have a crush on this boy. "I did not expect to see you." He says, not even trying to subtly change the subject.

 _Smooth_. You roll your eyes, the parchment paper crinkling in your fingers as you grab another chunk of elephant ear, "You underestimate my weakness for shitty carnival food, Americano."

"War." He corrects, making you pause.

 _War_. His name is War. "Well... It's nice to officially meet you then, War." You say with a grin. "You wanna ditch your bro and hang with me then?" You don't say 'date', but his wide eyes make it clear that's what he heard.

He glances over at his brother and then back at you, considering his options.

"You promised to show me Ruin." You add, sing song as you hold your hand out for him. A risky move, in your opinion. "Come on, War, you're not gonna go back on a promise, are you?"

He laughs, shaking his head as he takes your offered hand in his. "Death," He says, "I'll check on the horses."

You're tempted to add 'and maybe grab some dinner', but you think that's a little _too_ risky. His brother looks over at the two of you curiously, eyes lingering on yourself. "...fine. Be back in time for the next parade."

You may've been just imagining the 'I expect an introduction later' vibe he's sending, but with the way War rolls his eyes in response, you think you're right.

"Come on, Americano." You cheer, trying to drag War away. "We got things to do."

He lets you do the leading, although you mostly just wander aimlessly and talk. You learn a lot in that time, like his favorite color (yellow), his abnormal hatred for anything sour, and that he has absolutely no idea what he wants to major in (you have no idea, period).

You tell him random facts about yourself in return, talking about your now rather distant family and your job at the coffee place. He seems startled when you mention that you usually work double shifts and make the pastries, but thankfully doesn't ask about your financial situation. That seems more of a 'going steady' sort of question rather than one for the first date.

He does comment that you should teach him how to make tiramisu though, adding that their family kitchen is rarely used.

The family kitchen.

In his _home_.

 _Is... Is he inviting me over?_

You blush seven shades of red at that, and War quickly backpedals,"I didn't mean- like that."

You're unable to keep a straight face, trying to reign your laughter in with your free hand. "No, no! It's fine! God, I'm sorry for assuming." You attempt to say, your laughter making it that much harder to understand.

War, at least, seems to think its cute. "I should've worded it better." He replies, smiling down at you.

You wonder if you can kiss him if you get up on your tiptoes. Right now you're about even with his shoulders, so he'd probably have to lean down. I mean, I have already dared to hold his hand.

And god does he look kissable right now.

"Hey, War?" You say, purposely lowering your voice so he's forced to move closer to hear you over the crowd.

He raises one eyebrow.

"Can I kiss you?" You say, the words coming out much more delicate than planned. They don't match how you feel.

War blinks, and you can _feel_ his smirk when he presses his lips to yours.

It's short and sweet, and when you say _sweet_ you mean it. He licks his lips when he pulls away (you don't think you'll ever get that image out of your head). "You taste like cinnamon sugar."

You're unable to keep from smiling, asking, "You got a sweet tooth by any chance?"


End file.
